Mirror, Mirror
by crawlcarrymethrough
Summary: Morgana's dreams of misfortune directed towards Arthur are nothing new. However, when she sees Merlin as the one committing the crimes, it is up to Arthur and the others to prevent her visions from becoming a reality. But is Merlin truly to blame?
1. Something wicked this way comes

**Prologue:**

**_"And where the offence is, let the great axe fall."_ _- William Shakespeare, "Hamlet"_**

Silence. Seemingly ever present and all encompassing, the forests of Camelot were filled with its presence. To a mortal man, the silence would seem frightening and over-bearing, and yet, it didn't really exist at all. Whether it was the falling morning dew or the rustling of the autumn leaves in a cool wind, any semblance of silence was obliterated before it had a chance to begin.

On that night, it was the footsteps of a young man that ceased the silence in the forest. Turning his gaze towards the sky, the man raised his hands in the air, in their grasp, a weather-worn staff engraved with words of powerful magic.

"Úre burgsele cwide dryer."

Upon the utterance of those words, a dark glow surrounded the stranger, and his crimson eyes, burning with a fiery vengeance, trained on their destination: Camelot. His intention: chaos.

The only sound the rustling of a cloak, the stranger vanished into thin air, leaving one last word in his wake to linger in wind, forestalling the silence: "Merlin."

_**A/N: Currently, my secret addiction is "Merlin," and while I may not know the language that all those nifty spells are conjured in, I kind of took a guess at Old English. And so, in my searching, I found ./, which I will be using for all of my spell translations. A word of caution: I am probably 99% wrong in my translations, but hey, its the thought that counts, no? Anyways, this current little translation is more of a curse than a spell, and I was aiming for the translation to be "Your house will fall." Menacing? I hope so. Read and review 3**_


	2. The seed of evil

**Chapter 1: The seed of evil**

**"_I don't know the key to success, but the key to failure is trying to please everyone." __-Bill Cosby_**

Royalty, while they may pretend to be superior to mere "commoners", are just the same as anyone else. They dirty their clothes, scoff their boots, and cause general disarray where they go. The difference however, is that they don't worry about the ramifications of such things. That's what servants are for. In the case of Arthur Pendragon, that's what Merlin was for.

"Merlin, what in God's name have you done with my armour? I've searched all over for it. Did I not clearly instruct you to return it to the armoury when you had finished cleaning it?"

As per their usual daily routine, Arthur would fling general grievances in the direction of his manservant, Merlin, while the latter half listened, instead focusing on the other meaningless tasks he was sure Arthur would command him to perform. Like mucking the dreaded horse's stable.

At the thought, Merlin heaved a heavy sign and hung his head in resignation. 'Seriously,' he thought, 'is it even possible that a horse can make as much mess as they can? And don't they have anyone else to look after the stables? Isn't there a special job for that? Like, say, a stable hand?'

"Merlin! Are you even listening to me?" Returning his attention to Arthur, Merlin took notice of the look of general annoyance gracing the usually sully features of the prince.

"I…" he began, but was cut off by a quick cuff to the back of the head, courtesy of Arthur's sword hand.

"Quit your excuses," said Arthur, starting toward the door. "Just make sure I have it in my room by this afternoon. And while you're at it, go clean the stables. You really are useless, you know that Merlin?"

Before he could get a word in, Arthur had slammed the heavy door to his chambers, and began making his way down the hall towards the general direction of the castle entrance, his footsteps echoing in the stone halls. No doubt he was on his way to hit something with his sword. It usually served to relieve some anger. Some, but not all.

Rolling his eyes at the thought of his liege's childish behaviour, Merlin gathered up the goblet that had been thrown to the floor in Arthur's fit, and set about cleaning the chambers. While using magic would have accomplished the task infinitely faster, Merlin didn't dare to do so in the castle, where one could walk in and catch him at a moment's notice. He rather preferred his neck right where it was.

The first item on Merlin's mental checklist was to polish Arthur's mirror. Not one for vanity, Arthur preferred more practical objects, such as swords and mail, and only possessed the mirror in the first place because Morgana had given it to him as a birthday gift years earlier. His neglect of it was clear, as it accumulated dust from the lack of use it had at the hands of its owner.

Taking a cloth, he set about the task, whistling a cheery tune he heard the other day. As he did so, however, he felt a cold chill run down the length of his spine, returning his full attention to the mirror in question.

"Was that…" he began, taking a step back and examining the mirror for any sign of magical tampering, sinister or otherwise. "I must have just imagined it."

Before he could lift the cloth to the glass surface again, he heard a voice, no louder than a whisper resound in his head.

"_Merlin…_"

No stranger to such occurrences, Merlin racked his brain to think of who the voice might be coming from. He knew it could be neither that of the dragon, or the young druid boy. He concluded then that it must be that of some foreign sorcerer.

Taking in a cursory look of his surroundings, Merlin noted nothing peculiar that would normally raise his attention.

"_Merlin…"_

Turning his head, he saw with a withered hand, hidden partially by a thick blue cloak, being held up to his face before his world turned black.

**_A/N: Oo! Cliffhanger! Gotta love em. Good, bad? You tell me. OH! Before I forget, I did forget to add in that whole "This isn't mine, I own nothing, only wish I did," speech at the beginning of last chapter so... yeah. I own nothing. Don't sue. Anyway, please, read and review. Please. Pretty please. I'm begging here! _**


	3. Distractions

**Chapter 3:**

**_"The question is not would you die for a friend, but do you have a friend worth dying for?" – Author Unknown_**

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Somehow, however unlikely it may seem, there always remains a single place in an otherwise torturous existence which never ceases to bring comfort to a wounded soul. For Arthur, that place was the market of Camelot. The smell of the spices and the freshly baked bread; the laughter of the children; everything about the market invaded his senses and brought peace to his soul.

After an arduous day, Arthur often found himself retreating from the eyes of Camelot's nobility, shedding his mail for worn leather, and taking to the streets to mingle with the people that filled the market on a daily basis. The people he would one day come to rule.

On this particular day, Arthur found himself absentmindedly walking the market streets, stopping every so often to glance at some trinket that managed to catch his attention, but moving on, purchasing nothing and without so much as a word to the vendor. His thoughts, instead, were preoccupied with a certain manservant his father had assigned to aid him a year or so earlier.

It was true that Arthur often found himself exasperated by the sheer lack of competency displayed by Merlin, and yet, whenever his thoughts turned toward the boy, he felt his heart soften and his irritation abate.

It was Merlin's unwavering sense of morality and courage that had first brought the boy to Arthur's attention, as he boldly called the prince a "royal prat." Growing up, the prince had never had people in his life who he felt he could address as "friend." It was only after meeting Merlin, however, that he felt the doors to his once frozen heart beginning to thaw, and even open. Never before Merlin would the thought of risking his life for that of a mere servant have crossed his mind. And yet, more often than not, he found himself in those very predicaments.

Merlin was special.

And so it was that no matter how many times the boy managed to irritate him, Arthur continually found his inept ability to complete the simplest of tasks endearing, and his sense of justice inspiring. Merlin made him want to be a better prince, and even more so than that, a better man.

Of course, he'd never admit that to anyone, the least of which Merlin. He had a reputation to uphold after all.

Lost in his internal musings on Merlin, Arthur failed to notice the figure watching his movements from the shadows.

Watching.

Waiting.

"Soon, young prince, your life will be mine." The stranger smiled.

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_**A/N: I know its short! Please, don't hurt me! *covers head and hides under Morgana's ridiculously long cloak* I know this doesn't have much to do with plot, but I was feeling pretty sentimental after watching "Le Mort d'Arthur," and I really wanted to set the groundwork for how Arthur views Merlin, 'cause it's actually pretty crucial. So, I suppose one could say it was plot? Yes? No? Maybe? Whatever. Anyway, I promise that next chapter will be from Morgana's POV, which means, drumroll please: PLOT DEVELOPMENT! Yay! In that case, I suppose I should stop rambling and get back to writing. *Sigh*, the unappreciated life of a fanfic writer. If you do appreciate, please, REVIEW! They're the substance that drives my fingers to hammer away at the keys! Thankies! Oh! Before I forget, this is supposed to be set before evil!Morgana, but after the death of Gwen's father.**_


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